


I don't need tender mercies

by pearwaldorf



Category: Assassin's Creed, Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 07:22:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1596434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearwaldorf/pseuds/pearwaldorf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a young Assassin named Natalia kills a cardinal, climbs a tall building in a skirt, and gets to know her coworkers better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I don't need tender mercies

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd graciously by [catechism](http://twitter.com/catechism/). Any remaining terribleness is my fault.
> 
> Title from [Au Palais](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rC-Hfm0oyOc).

Natalia tucked her hair under the cap, making sure not one bright strand showed. Paris was much more populous than the small towns and country estates she was used to working, but a redhead would not go unnoticed. Making a face, she adjusted her dress. She disliked the current fashions that had such tight bodices restricting easy movement, but the need to blend in with the rest of the crowd outweighed any potential disadvantages, for now. She looked in the mirror one last time and saw a fresh-faced young matron, recognizable only by the quirk of an eyebrow. All she needed was a basket full of the day’s shopping to make the disguise complete.

The Cardinal styled himself a man of the people, and took great care in making himself conspicuous to his public, without any visible guards nearby. Natalia knew they were there, well-disguised as craftsmen or laborers to the casual eye, but one only needed to glance at how they held a tool or the relative smoothness of their hands to discern their true occupation. She observed how His Eminence stopped to talk to elderly women or accept flowers from children, sketching blessings in return. If the assignment she pulled from the dovecote was to be believed (and her mysterious masters were never wrong), he had a great deal to answer for. She would enjoy putting a dagger in his heart (or kidneys, or bowels, as the job required and opportunity presented).

His Eminence turned into an alley, quieter than the bustle of the main street, and entered a building. The guards, relieved of their need to disguise themselves, took up posts around the entrance. Natalia settled in to wait behind a wall of boxes. The day was hot, the air was still, and the meeting was very long. Tired of standing, the guards took to dicing and eventually, one of them went to piss. She took care of him after he’d finished his business. (She killed people for money; she was not a savage.) The others were exceptionally unobservant or she was very light on her feet--either way, they didn’t notice a thing until she’d knifed the first one in the back. The rest of the fight was quick and quiet, and she was grateful.

The Cardinal must have known something was amiss when he stepped outside, but he showed no sign of distress or confusion. As she approached him, he merely unbuttoned the collar of his elaborate robes, baring his neck. She schooled her face to stillness, dagger in hand. The edge was sharp and keen, and drew a fine line of red as it touched his neck. There was no panic or fear in his expression as she looked at him.

“Are you not afraid, Your Eminence?” His eyes crinkled, as if in laughter.

“How can I be, when I know everything happens for a reason?” He placed his hand on hers, still holding the dagger. “I am not privy to all of God’s plans, but I have my place within them, as you do. You came here to do a task. Complete it. I absolve you.” She stepped away, so blood spilled onto the street and not her dress. She dipped the feather and placed it carefully into a handkerchief, tucking it in amongst her shopping. She was far away before she heard the commotion of discovery.

\--

The new safe house was, of course, accessible only through a rooftop. (She knew in her bones all the Assassins’ leadership were men, because they obviously had no idea what climbing to the top of a building in skirts was like.) The building was cool and quiet after the hot stickiness of the day, and she felt herself letting her guard down, knowing she was safe from discovery, for now.

Natalia walked into the leader’s chamber, where Rogiers was waiting. She presented the feather, along with a baguette. He rarely left the safe house during missions, and she knew he must be hungry. 

“ _Ami_ , it is done.” He reached for a ledger, and crossed the name out on his paperwork.

“You have struck a great blow for the Assassins and righteousness today, Natalia. We should go celebrate, when Jean gets back.” Rogiers’s eyes lit up as he spoke, and she found herself suddenly curious about him. Small and sickly, he would never survive a mission, but he had a facility for planning and logistics that had saved her life more than once. He saw the Assassins as a force for good in a perpetually corrupt world, and believed so wholeheartedly in their mission it bordered on zeal. Perhaps when their acquaintance deepened, it would be something she could discuss. Natalia didn’t know many believers. 

La Grange entered the safehouse with a thump, and Natalia watched as he gave Rogiers a kiss on the cheek and tore up the baguette, giving the largest end to Rogiers before cramming the bread into his mouth. His solicitude was long practiced, nearly instinctual, and she recalled hearing they were orphans on the street together. Imagining the well-built la Grange protecting a younger and slighter Rogiers gave her a pang, and she was glad they still had each other, even now. He seemed to finally remember she was in the room, and he bowed. She wasn’t sure if it was mocking or not.

“Monsieur la Grange.” She nodded at him in greeting.

“Be more familiar, Natalia. We’ve killed people together! Call me Jean.” He flashed her a smile, and despite herself, she was charmed. 

“As you wish. Jean.” 

“Don’t fill yourself up on bread!” Rogiers slapped at his friend’s arm. “We’re going out to celebrate Natalia’s mission. Right?” He looked at her entreatingly. She smiled and gathered the props of her disguise. 

“As soon as I change into something more comfortable, we will go.”

\--

The tavern was loud and raucous, full of people unwinding after a hard day’s work. With a mug of ale and a good meal in her, Natalia was finally, truly relaxed. Squeezed companionably between Rogiers and Jean at the large communal table, she felt good about her place in the world. Rogiers tottered off drunkenly to use the privy, dropping a kiss on Jean’s forehead before leaving. His eyes fluttered closed, as if it were all the benediction he needed.

“You care about each other very much.” It was not so much as an observation as an invitation to speak, if he chose. 

“It’s been just us for so long, it’s a hard thing to change. Stefan was ill, so much.” His eyes grew hard, and she could tell those times were not as far off as he would have liked. “We had to choose between food and medicine, sometimes shelter. But I can take care of him now, and keep him safe. I will always keep him safe, as long as I breathe.” 

He swallowed, and she was drawn to the glint of two medals at his neck. She put her hand out inquisitively, and he tipped his head back so she could see them. They were warm from his body, and if she lingered in her examination, Jean did not seem to mind. One was of St. Jude, the other of St. Christopher. 

“From Stefan. For protection.” He caught her hand, and at her nod, he traced his fingers along the lines of her palm. His fingertips were callused from bowstrings and a lifetime of hard work, a contrast to his light, almost delicate touch. 

“He must know you need all the help you can get.” She hoped she didn’t sound as breathy and short-winded as she thought. Jean laughed softly, as if he’d heard that before many times.

“You and Stefan must have been talking, or I am that easy to pin down.” At that moment, Rogiers returned from the privy. Upon hearing his name, he smirked.

“We know Jean takes all the foolishness with him.” Rogiers took her other hand in both of his. “Please keep him safe, since I can’t.” His voice was soft, and Natalia understood a little of how much it must have rankled him to always be the protected, never the protector. She squeezed his hand, and he brought it to his lips, brushing her knuckles. “I am in your debt, always.” 

“You have my knives and my life, both of you.” She was surprised to find that she meant it.

“More drinks then, to celebrate!” Jean waved the serving girl over.

“And what exactly are we celebrating?” She realized Jean and Rogiers--Stefan were still holding both of her hands. She felt no need to extricate herself.

“Friendship. Partnership. _Fraternité_.” Stefan put a cup to her lips, and the wine was warm and sweet.

\--

They stumbled out of the tavern and made their way back to the safe house, laughing and drunk. The stone of the roof was cool, and the press of Jean and Stefan’s bodies against hers was welcome. Natalia closed her eyes and turned to one side, meeting one pair of lips and feeling another pair on her shoulder. She reached out a hand to tangle her fingers in Stefan’s hair as Jean’s hand crept under her blouse. Stefan caught her hand in his. In the moonlight, she could see concern on his face.

“I want to make sure this is something you want. This”--he gestured to encompass all three of them--“is rather unconventional.” She smiled and dropped a kiss in his palm.

“Jean and I are Assassins. You are my _ami_. We never had a chance at being conventional.” She kissed Jean long and slow, before gently pinning Stefan down. 

“We are architects of our own actions, and we accept the consequences of them, both glorious and terrible.” She straddled him and rolled her hips, enjoying the way he tried to stifle his gasp. “Is that something you can deal with?” He nodded, already breathing hard. Natalia smiled.

“Wonderful. Now we can begin.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Rafiq](http://assassinscreed.wikia.com/wiki/Rafiq) were teachers and field contacts for Assassins. It also means "friend" in Arabic.
> 
> "Grange" is barn in French. If you didn't think I'd sneak in a pun you are sorely mistaken.


End file.
